Provençal soupe au pistou

Looking over my past few posts, I see a trend--a trend that has probably led to my high cholesterol. Oh, the numbers. My total is 235 with the bad cholesterol at 143. Ouch.

Thus the need to find recipes that feature more vegetables and beans and less fat and refined carbs. So, no ice cream or banana cake for a while.

But I love this soup and can live without the goodies when food is this beautiful. The bright green of the zucchini and green beans was achieved by blanching them first and adding them to the soup at the last minute. The pistou on top was a product of the neighbor's basil-based generosity.

The recipe for Provençal soupe au pistou came from Martha Rose Shulman's Ready when you are: A compendium of comforting one-dish meals. 

Catching Up

Real life has been getting in the way of my hobbies, which is why I haven't posted in a while. I will attempt to impress you with my productivity by posting several things that I have made recently that I happen to have pictures of.

Chocolate Ice Cream from David Lebovitz's Perfect Scoop. A custard-based ice cream with cocoa and semisweet chocolate, I found this smooth and not overly sweet. I've used the same base to make coffee ice cream as well.

I made this foccacia after watching America's Test Kitchen. Their recipe starts with a biga, which allows good flavor to develop. You don't knead the dough at all, just fold it, which allows the dough to stay light. They don't include any oil in the recipe, which was surprising, but they have you generously oil the cake pans they're baked in and that turns out to be just the right amount.

Banana Cake from Dorie Greenspan's Baking: From My Home to Yours. Great crumb, great flavor, not greasy. What else is there to say? I have more bananas stockpiled in the freezer. If the cool-ish weather holds, I'll make some more soon.

Chard and Goat Cheese Torte adapted from Rose Shulman's recipe for Spinach Ricotta Torte in Mediterranean Harvest. I used locally made goat cheese and chard from our CSA. The photo shows the refrigerated leftovers, so perhaps it doesn't look as appetizing as it could...

Oven-Roasted Pulled Pork and Western North Carolina-style Barbecue Sauce

Turns out that I just love pork, which puts to rest all my former pretensions toward vegetarianism. Go ahead. Snicker.

During the last two years, going home to TN/NC requires at least one visit to a great barbecue place. My first forays into the indigenous cuisine were at The Ridgewood (this links to a video that will give a sense of the ambiance of The Ridgewood) and Dixie, where you can get an Alabama white barbecue sauce that is my favorite at Dixie (which sports no less than 6 to choose from).

Just last week I was visiting my parents and got to have great barbecue twice--once at Phil's Dream Pit in Kingport, TN and once at Little Pigs Barbecue in Asheville, NC. Real barbecue requires hickory smoking, which I could never replicate at home, but I thought I would give oven roasting a try. I bought a hunk of pork shoulder, which for some folkloric (I'm sure) reason is actually called Boston butt. Using the Joy of Cooking (75th anniversary edition) as a reference point, I made a dry rub with chili powder, paprika, cumin, garlic salt, and brown sugar. I let that permeate the meat for a couple of hours. Then I seared the meat in olive oil in a large cast iron dutch oven, which then went into the oven for about 2 1/2 hours at 325 degrees. The result was tender and flavorful, if not smoky. But then, I can't always taste the smoke in genuine pit-smoked pork.

The sauce was inspired by two of the sauces I tasted recently. I wanted it to be sufficiently vinegary, but not thin. I wanted the tomato base, but mustard too. Here's the sauce recipe, approximately:
1/2 cup ketchup
2 T. brown sugar
2 T. grainy brown mustard
3/4 cup apple cider vinegar
2 T. smoked paprika
2 T. chili powder
1 t. cumin
1 T. soy sauce
1 T. fish sauce
1 T. olive oil
a splash or two of hot sauce

The trick, really, is to keep tasting it until it tastes right to you. Goes well with a nice Zinfandel, which you can't get at Phil's Dream Pit!

Kale and Quinoa Salad with Arugula Pesto and Beehive Cheese

I would be a terrible cookbook writer. I don't measure, unless I absolutely must. Case in point--I made arugula pesto today. Here's the recipe:

two cloves of garlic, medium-ish
large handful of walnuts, or whatever nut you have on hand
a bunch of arugula
glugs of olive oil (extra virgin of course)
salt

Blend in food processor until it is the consistency you like. That's it.

Using said pesto, today I made a quinoa and kale salad with
approximately 1 c. of cooked chilled quinoa
1 bunch of Italian kale, cut into ribbons
large spoonful of arugula pesto (1/4 cup maybe?)
a glug of apple cider vinegar
shredded Beehive Promontory Apple Walnut Smoked cheese

I had no idea Italian kale was so tasty. Not bitter, not stringy, easy to eat raw. Both the kale and the arugula came from the Cache Valley Gardeners Market. I got there early today so I wouldn't miss the good stuff!

Later tonight, arugula pizza with provolone piccante (sharp provolone)!

Roasted Parsnips and Brussels Sprouts

I love roasting vegetables--they become almost sweet, even though they're doused in olive oil and salt. Since Michael is out of town, and he hates Brussels sprouts, and I'm pretty sure he hates parsnips too, I made these.

It seems silly to provide a recipe. Toss your favorite vegetables in some olive oil, salt, pepper, herbs maybe (if you have some), and roast at high heat (450 degrees works for me) until they are nicely brown. With Brussels sprouts, the outer leaves will blacken a bit, but not to worry, the inside is becoming tender, and those black outer leaves taste like potato chips. The parsnips look like potato chips, but the taste is earthy, and the natural sugars in the parsnips provide an undertone of honey.

Carne Adovada

A good friend of mine grew up in Albuquerque, and she has taught me to love New Mexican cuisine that features green chiles. But more than the green chiles, I fell in love with PORK, specifically carne adovada (or adobada) at the Frontier there in Albuquerque. Interestingly, on their menu, carne adovada is considered a "bulk item."

When our dinner group friends said they were making carne adovada, I got pretty excited. It totally lived up to my expectations, but I have to say that I was even more enchanted by the margarita martinis (or margatinis) they served beforehand.

The carne adovada was also wonderful. The trick to making this is a long marinade and long, slow cooking, which renders the pork into a fork tender dream. If the photo is a little blurry, blame the margatinis.

Moroccan Dinner

Our dinner group met last night. Two of our guests and Michael went to Morocco a few years ago, and I got very interested in the food even though they didn't find the food all that compelling while they were there. Nevertheless, we decided to serve a Moroccan dinner. We began with appetizers including a sundried tomato hummus, olive tapenade with fig and garlic, almond stuffed olives, and Michael's labor of love, Moroccan pita. He practiced this recipe at least five times in search of the perfectly puffed pita, which he achieved beautifully last night. Served with a fino sherry, this little spread seemed to go over well with our guests.

The main course was a chicken tagine with apricots, sundried tomatoes, raisins, and almonds. I followed nearly the same recipe I provided here, but there was no ginger or garbanzo beans. We served it with an Israeli couscous cooked with butter and saffron. Choices of wine for dinner included a Spanish rioja, a French Côtes du Rhône, and a Californian pinot noir.

We ended the meal with a Morrocan baklava with pistachio and cinnamon. I got the recipe from The Spice House. Using good European butter and high-quality cinnamon (I honestly can't remember now if I used the Ceylon or the Cassia) seemed to make a difference. Oh, and somewhere in there we squeezed in some champagne to celebrate our friends' recent accomplishments.

After the baklava, we drank sweet, sweet green tea with mint--very much in the Morrocan style--poured from a great height with Moroccan flair.